


Close Your Eyes

by FHC_Lynn



Series: Broken Windows [22]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:10:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FHC_Lynn/pseuds/FHC_Lynn
Summary: They did offer Prowl a pretty thing to have and hold. All he had to do was accept.





	Close Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rizobact](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rizobact/gifts).



> May Day prompt from Rizobact. I have no idea if Prowl did or did not know their names, but writing him trying to guess was fun.
> 
> Please note: There might be some triggery content, due to the nature of the canon, uh, meeting between these characters, though I don't know that this could occur within the canon. I wasn't sure I'd full out say 'rape', but that might all be in the semantics at this point.

“Turn around and go back the way you came.”

“Prowl --”

“Leave.”

“Sending us away will change nothing,” the uppity one huffed, crossing his arms. “We had no more choice in this than you.”

“Hook,” he growled. Prowl thought the uppity one was named Hook, anyway. Honestly, he didn’t really know one from the other. Hideous green and purple monstrosities. “Go away.”

“And we're still in your mind. You want us. You don’t like us, but you want us here,” the uppity one went on. Ignoring him.

“That's the combiner reprogramming,” Prowl snapped. He looked down from his perch among the debris to where the five of them hovered. Their presence further aggravated his uncertain mood. The uncomfortable push and pull across his whole being rattled every sensor he had. His reception among his own people had always been less than warm. This unwelcome quintet (formerly _sextet_ , and he felt that ache deep in them) had changed nothing there save to make it more obvious with their endless lingering about. And that set him further on edge.

“We like you,” another one popped up. Scrap. Which one was he? He was the one that complained all the time, wasn’t he? “No one else should matter, Prowl. C’mon. We feel how much you want it. You’re practically _vibrating_ with it. Why’s this such a problem? It’s good to be together!”

Long Haul, maybe? Prowl should learn their names. If they were truly stuck with each other. Eventually. But he didn't have to make this easy for anyone. “Go. Away,” he ground out and waved the back of his hand at them “ _Shoo!_ ”

Bonecrusher growled and threw himself at the pile to climb up. He thought this one was Bonecrusher. And the last speaker (Long Haul?) followed him first, but the rest began to move as well, running along the pile’s base and shouting excitedly or trying to clamber less gracefully after the first two. Even with the modifications they had forced on him (or been forced to give him, they insisted; he would probe into that very soon), Prowl was smaller and lighter. He gained ground and height until Hook (Prowl remembered, belatedly, the uppity one, Hook, had the tow line) aimed his line to catch around Prowl’s panels. A lucky shot, really, but it hurt enough to halt him until Bonecrusher could grab him.

Even angry, Bonecrusher was careful untangling him, but Prowl delivered one sharp kick to Bonecrusher’s knee. In the scuffle, Prowl almost got away again. Almost. Hook swore and released the tension so he didn’t damage Prowl. Long Haul tackled him this time, chest to chest while running. Locking his arms around Prowl and twisting, Long Haul took the brunt of the fall. The timid one (Scavenger, was it?) helped Bonecrusher back to his pedes first. They both helped their fellow keep hold of him as Long Haul sat up. Scavenger, or whoever he was, took over the fiddly task of removing the looped cable so Hook could retract it. Scavenger also ran his hands lightly across the sensor nodes embedded in his panels.

Apparently they remembered how sensitive those were, not just how comparatively fragile.

Shivering, Prowl closed his optics, blocking out the sight of Long Haul’s chest. Of hands reaching for him. If he could just accept all _this_ happening to him, let it become simple data bytes in his memory, it would be all right. He could be all right. After all, they gave him a taste of the admiration he so desperately craved, didn’t they? And they claimed they had been just as forced. If true, they were fellow victims and willing pawns for a game of retribution.

The echo of their adoration whispered through his mind. Every hand that touched him now did so with reverent care. They missed Scrapper. Prowl felt their mourning closely, when he unbent to reach back to them. Scrapper had been one of them in a way Prowl could never be, but they wanted Prowl as _himself_. Not a replacement, not a scapegoat, not a punching bag. _Their Prowl_ , of the brilliant mind and infinite plans.

If only…

Someone leaned in, biting the edge of a panel. Someone else had sat on the heaped rubble they all clambered on and pulled Prowl back to straddle their lap. Long Haul followed him to kneel in front of him. He didn’t know which would think rub their face plate against his inner thigh. He gave in, finally, and rocked over the fingers teasing at the apex of his thighs.

If he ignored who they were, _what_ they were, the care and respect felt like every dream he had watched burst one by one through the millennia.


End file.
